


Beloved Beauty

by IReallyHopeThisMakesUsEven



Series: Attempting to Fix it [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 18:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IReallyHopeThisMakesUsEven/pseuds/IReallyHopeThisMakesUsEven
Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a young woman finally out of the grasp of her father, Ivan. After buying a house she stumbles across a stranger at a local bar, Bruce decides to help her with renovations. Little does he know Natasha and her father are apart of the Russian mob.





	Beloved Beauty

She had picked this particular bar because it was quiet and close, just the sound of the local radio station flowing through it. She had ordered a dirty martini, chewing on the toothpick left with no olive on it. Natasha heard the swing of the heavy front door, footsteps approaching next to her. 

In her peripheral view, she saw a man sitting down the bar, tempted, she took a peek over her shoulder. He was shrugging off what looked like a lab coat, hanging on one of the two stools that were between them. Already, he was more respectful than most of the men she knew, putting a cautious distance between himself to her. He ordered a rum and coke, sitting with slumped shoulders. He grumbled to himself. Fuck it, Natasha thought, swiveling in her chair “long day?” she asked simply with a cocked brow. She picked up her glass sipping her drink waiting for a response from the mystery man.

The man turned towards her, slowly picking up his head, he looked defenseless “to say the least” his voice was low and corse. Turning back to his glass, she watches him sip from the small straw that the bartender had put in his glass. 

He was adorable, she thought, like a lost puppy. Disheveled, messy hair, light scruff, wrapped together with olive-toned skin and doughy pair of eyes. Good lord, she was a goner, she had never been around a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. She got all this from one brief sentence, Natasha tossed back her glass, pushing towards the bartender motioning for another one. 

He picks up his glass to take another sip, pausing, with his glass held in front of his face “what about you?” he asked before his lips clasped onto that tiny red straw.

“Dipping my toe into local scenery” she said, letting out some bait to see if he’d bite, he chuckled softly into his glass then ordered another drink.

He let out a huff then turned, holding out a hand for her to shake “Bruce, Bruce Banner” she reached. Clasping onto his hand, she felt her thumb softly running over his skin, unknowingly at first. 

“Natasha Romanoff” she pulled back still drinking him in, he was wearing a blue and white plaid shirt with black corduroy slacks. The bartender placed another glass in front of both of them taking Natasha out of her trance. 

She tossed it back, gesturing for another, throwing down another bill before he had the chance to ring her up again. “How are you liking it?” pulling back from his already half-finished glass. 

Nat smirked, making him wait for a response, chewing on olives from her empty glass. “It’s busy enough to make things interesting but not overpopulated” he was silent finishing his drink. 

The bartender had another ready for both of them before he had finished. “Was your day as stressful as it seems?” Natasha asked, adding on some playfulness. 

He laughed, letting his rigidness melt off him with every sip of his rum and coke. “Working with my best friend usually gives me the urge to drink at the end of the week” he said before drinking out of his collection of three straws.

She hopped over one bar stool to be closer “try working for your father” she said, waiting like a game of cat and mouse to see his reaction. 

“Your next round is on me then” Natasha appreciated his humor that was beginning to flourish. Somehow this stranger drinks out of three straws could keep up with her drinking, she respected that. 

Bruce gestured for another, turning to look at her “maybe I can help with your situation? In the strict drunk-at-a-bar type of scenario” he said putting his hands up to insinuate that he wasn’t pressuring her. She watched as he became light-heated and animated.

Natasha reached into her pocket pulling out a twenty-dollar bill slapping it onto the bar. “I think we’ll need a shot first, any preference?” She titles a brow waiting for his response. 

“Dealers choice” he played along, she ordered two shots of Tito’s chilled, they clinked glasses before tossing it back. She watched Bruce’s face cringe, chasing it with his rum and coke. 

She filtering through her next statement not wanting to give him too much context. “My father is controlling, I feel smothered and restrained” she shrugs waiting for a response. 

Bruce stands up to move into the stool between the two of them, bring his drink with him. He reached into his pocket, handing out cash to get them another round. “I grew up with a father who didn’t take to me because he knew I’d be better than him. Even at a young age, he knew I would excel in ways that he never could. So when I got out from underneath his thumb, well, it was relieving” he looked over at her with compassion. 

She sympathized with him “my issue with my father comes from how old fashioned he is, he wants to carry on a strong legacy and he has such pride our name. I think it's all bullshit, I don’t think it's healthy to spend your life dedicated to something that can easily be taken away.” Natasha realized that he had put his elbow on the bar propping up his hand underneath his chin to listen to her. He was getting soft, she had a high tolerance for Vodka having her first shot of it at five years old. 

They were silent for a moment, sipping on their drinks, Natasha watched as Bruce continued to use the small red straws the bartender put in his glass. She found it charming, Natasha was still bewildered to see a man in this light, unafraid of masculinity being questioned. “The one thing this bar is missing is food” Natasha said which received a moan in response from Bruce. 

He moved the straws out of the way finally, tossing back his drink, initially coughing a bit from all the carbonation in the soda. He held out his hand, gesturing for her to tag along. She stares at it, wondering when simple flirting turned the corner to a date. She finished her drink grabbed her things then clasped onto his hand, they both left the bartender a hefty tip. 

“So what’s your poison? Nachos, wings, hot dogs or maybe a cheeseburger?” Their hands still laced together, maybe it was the vodka or the idea risk and rebellion that she never had when she was a teenager. Either way, she didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable walking with a charming man that she barely knew. 

She chewed at her cheek contemplating “ I’ve never had most of those things, my fathers not a fan of American food” she shrugged. 

Bruce stopped in his tracks with a mouth gaping open at her. “I’m getting you to a food truck, stat” he said playfully tugging her along up a block. He didn’t stumble or slur his words but Bruce felt the need to run his hands along the side of filthy buildings like a child. 

She could smell the grease 60 paces back. Natasha appreciated that he didn’t find it odd or question her unaccustomed personality nor does he mistake it for innocence or ignorance. “Do you mind ordering for me?” She asked which earned her a grin, he approached the young man who was leaning on the counter patiently listening as Bruce listed off a feast. She sat at the table for two watching Bruce patiently wait for food. She reached in her pocket for her phone, it was dead,  _ probably for the best.  _

She closed her eyes for a moment taking in the sounds and smells of the city. Natasha told herself that when she’d got older, out of her father's grasp, she would appreciate everything that was taken from her, even the small things. She opened them to find Bruce preparing napkins and condiments at the side stand, knocking over a few ketchup packets and loose utensils. 

Natasha found him kind, though she knew he probably was much different sober. It was his understanding, she barely had to explain herself, Nat never liked to talk about her emotions. Comfort was found in this stranger that only needed a few words from her to understand. 

Bruce was carrying a tray with a proud grin dishing it out in front of her. He placed the tray on the small table next to them “the best part about most American food, no utensils” She gulped. He had ordered her massive double stack cheeseburger, half of the toppings were going to slide off with one bite. 

Deciding to go with the tone of the night, she devoured her burger as did he. Bruce had unknowingly dripped ketchup onto his button-up, he was too hyper-focused on the burger. When he did realize Natasha found herself tilting her head back in laughter at his idea of trying to clean his shirt and only making it worse. 

He gave up on his shirt and handed her the rest of the napkins when she was on her last bite “also with American food there’s no shame in making a mess” he gestured towards his shirt, she looked down to find a good chunk of her toppings had fallen onto her wrapper. Bruce pushed water towards her, getting up to clean the mess in front of both of them. 

Before she could say ‘thank you’ he was already throwing out their trash. He stilled coming back to his chair “I hope you realize I never do this”  _ good,  _ Natasha though, feeling herself get slightly possessive over this stranger with daddy issues. 

“And you think I galavant with strangers having them buy me food?” She cocked a brow Bruce chuckled to himself, she found his laugh infectious. 

They were silent for a moment, taking in the cool breeze rolling in, the clear night sky. “I lied earlier” she lets it slip from her tongue, she didn’t understand why she felt the need to be honest with a stranger, but she knew it wasn’t the Vodka. “I wasn’t out here taking in the sights, I bought a house” Natasha cringed, she had the small fear of lying to Bruce might chase him away, afraid of losing someone she barely knew. 

Bruce leaned forward “to get away from your father?” he asked,  _ god he was good.  _

She nodded in agreement “It took me a while to save up without him knowing, and still it’s a fixer-upper. I told him last week and he’s been seething ever since, plotting his vengeance, I moved the last of my stuff over today” Natasha explained. 

He put his thumb to his lip, she watched the gears turn in his mind “I could help you, with the house” Natasha couldn’t hide the look she shot him. 

Her forehead wrinkled, she didn’t want to shoot him down but she did have some disbelief towards how much he could help her. “I worked off the books throughout high school and college to get out of the house, pay for the bills” she was intrigued.

“A man with hands as soft as yours, I wouldn’t expect to be that handy” she teased him, she looked up to find his eyes beginning to glaze over, the last of the booze was hitting him. 

Bruce shook his head at “I hope you know these soft hands can handle plumbing, electric, sheetrock, spackle, tiling” he listed off on his fingers, letting his train of thought escape him.

She was at a loss of words, he leaned back in his chair waiting for a response. “You aren’t just saying this because the alcohol .. or the daddy issues, are you?” Natasha asked with a playful tone. 

He gave her a goofy grin back “not at all, I enjoy hard work and it helps when things get to be stressful” giving her a shrug. 

Natasha leaned forward “well I guess the only question I have left is, when can you start?” 

He looked at her weighing his options “after my hangover wears off tomorrow, 10 am the latest” Bruce smiled.

Natasha let out a yawn, starting to stand to pick up her things. “I have to get back to that shack I call a house” she looks into her purse, Bruce lets her scramble for a bit before handing her a pen he keeps in his shirt. 

She takes his hand and writes her number on the back of it. Even leaving her name In case he doesn’t remember her in the morning. After giving his pen back, she looked at him. He was starting to get droopy-eyed “let me know when you get home safe” she said.

Natasha cringes to herself, she nearly doesn’t recognize the woman who would care so much about a stranger. She felt that she sounded desperate asking for a crumb of attention as if he owed it to her. 

Coming around the table to stand in front of him, Natasha leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. Leaving a hand on his shoulder when she said “have a goodnight Bruce” pulling away from him. 

“Goodnight Natasha” he said simply, she walked down the street. Feeling giddy that she was able to find so much in a man that she met at a bar. 

Her walk home was met with large strides desperate to get home and charge her phone. When she met her door that needed a more secure lock on it, she found herself nearly sprinting to plug her phone in. Leaving it to charge she got ready for bed in her closet she calls a bathroom. When she came back to her phone, ignoring all her messages to find an unknown number had left her a text. 

‘Hey, it’s Bruce, hope you got home safe.. see you tomorrow’ 

It took her a while to figure out what to say to him, deciding to skirt the line of tackiness 

‘Home safe, get some rest... You'll need it ;)’

She found her bed, grateful she thought of dressing her bed before leaving. She slept with a smile, maybe because of the random embrace of a kind stranger in her life or maybe it was the gun strapped underneath her side table but for the first time in her life, she felt safe. 


End file.
